


The Central Quad

by DrownedRedhead



Series: The Arts College [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Almost First Date, College AU, Fluff, M/M, art student yams, college dj tsukishima, everyone is gay and i dont apologise, in the next one.., we'll get there!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:10:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6889375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrownedRedhead/pseuds/DrownedRedhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamaguchi Tadashi and Tsukishima Kei prepare for their first date with drastically different results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Art Student

Yamaguchi Tadashi does not think he is taken to flights of fancy. He is a happy man, yes, but a hard worker and not necessarily that imaginative. His art is an expression of who he is more than an expression of imagination. Which is why he’s surprised when he spends Friday night staring at the blank wall attempting to imagine every possible way that the Saturday date can go.

Every possible way the date can go includes some scenarios that make him turn pink and scold himself violently for letting himself imagine someone he’s only just met in such a way. For the most part, however, he spends the night turning pink over the thought of holding Tsukishima’s hand or going back to his dorm and watching movies.

Saturday morning dawns brightly. Yamaguchi knows this because he hasn’t slept at all. He turns over and pulls the covers over his face. He has no class on Saturday because the only class he’d wanted to take was full so instead of worry about getting up, he tries to convince himself that another ten minutes in bed will mean he actually falls asleep.

It does not. He spends several hours fading in and out of a restless sleep and eventually tosses himself out of bed at nine thirty. He takes a very long, hot shower. He scrubs himself more than perhaps necessary and ends up staring at the tiles, relishing the feeling of water on his skin.

Yamaguchi’s skin is a little pink when he finally gets out of the shower twenty minutes later – from the entirely unnecessarily violent scrubbing, he supposes. He rubs his hands through his hair and walks back to his dorm. He takes a moment to be proud of himself and his ability to walk around without a shirt without having a panic attack anymore. His pride is slightly wounded when he gets back to his dorm room and decides that he has nothing to wear for a date.

Yamaguchi ends up pulling everything out of his dresser and putting it on the bed. This is how it comes about that he is standing in nothing but his underwear at exactly 09:57 when his dorm mate, Hinata Shouyo, bustles in. He is not, exactly, uncomfortable with the redhead. Yamaguchi likes him even, though he’s a bit overwhelming at times. It’s just that, today, Hinata brings with him Kageyama Tobio.

This is how it comes about that at exactly 09:59 Kageyama Tobio, who had been expecting to wait for his maybe boyfriend and always workout buddy to get dressed, is instead shoved out of the dorm and told “tomorrow!” in a yell through the door. After having seen more of Hinata’s quiet room mate than he had ever expected too, Kageyama is entirely too confused and flustered to argue.

“Hinata! You startled me!” Yamaguchi screeches from the floor, having nearly fallen over his bed in his attempt to cover himself and get away from the door at the same time. Hinata just grins and waltzes over, glancing at Yamaguchi’s overturned sheets and clothes.

“You’re very intent on what clothes to wear today. Usually you spend Saturdays in paint clothes,” Hinata says, squatting down beside Yamaguchi.

“You’re observant,” Yamaguchi grumbles, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Hinata just grins at him. “If you must know, I’m going out today at noon.”

“Out?” Hinata asks, managing to put an unnerving emphasis on the word. He stands and offers his hand to Yamaguchi, who takes it and brushes himself off in huff, despite not having anything to brush off, really.

“Yes, out. And I’m trying to find something to wear because most of my clothes are, well, not made to impress.”

“Dress to impress, eh?” Hinata asks, wiggling his eyebrows and laughing when Yamaguchi rubs his forehead, biting down on a smile.

“I set myself up for that one. Yes, okay. Yes. Just,” Yamaguchi makes a face and glances down at his clothes, “help me find something to wear,” he finishes, hating himself for sounding whiney.

“I’ll get you date ready in no time!” Hinata promises. “Just let me call a friend.”

“No! No more people!”

“Don’t worry. She’s dating someone.”

“That does not make it better!”

This is how it comes about that at 10:09, Hinata is letting Yachi Hitoka into their dorm room. Yamaguchi has put on sweats, at least, and is attempting not to look like he’s pouting, despite his crossed arms and sour expression.

Yachi is a little shorter than Hinata and Yamaguchi wonders if that was part of the reason he had befriended her then dismisses it out of hand; Hinata wasn’t cunning enough or mean enough for that. She’s cute, in a way, and Yamaguchi is suddenly all the more uncomfortable. He’d seen this girl coming and going at the college radio. Not that he’d been watching the place or anything, just, noticing it when he passes by. He passes by a lot.

“Yachi Hitoka,” she introduces herself to Yamaguchi. He stares at her like a deer in the headlights for a moment before doing the same. She nods and looks over his clothing. She hums softly, thoughtfully.

“Where are you going?” Yachi asks. Yamaguchi shrugs.

“He said something about a new café,” he says, then immediately regrets it when Yachi and Hinata both look at him. Yachi just seems to be surveying him and his clothes again, nodding vaguely, having gotten what she needed. Hinata doesn’t seem surprised necessarily and anything but judgmental, rather he seems to be revaluating Yamaguchi.

“Do you know what café?”

“I didn’t ask,” he says, rubbing his neck. “There wasn’t really, um, an opportunity.” Yachi looks at him, surprised and mildly concerned and he hurries to continue. “It just all happened so suddenly. He was just _there_ while I was painting, and honestly I had to get going anyway, but he just showed up and I thought he was going to kiss me for a moment there then he left!”

“And you agreed to go out with this guy?” Yachi asks, bemused.

“Well, at least he’s never called me a moron,” Yamaguchi mumbles, glancing at Hinata. Yachi laughs while Hinata gasps, clapping a hand to his chest in exaggerated hurt.

“And he’s so tall,” Yamaguchi adds, sounding wistful. Hinata stops and raises his eyebrows, grinning. “I’m allowed to be a little shallow! Besides, I like his taste in music,” he finishes lamely, trailing off. Yachi is focused on his clothes again, discarding all his painting clothes – old and paint stained to a one – out of hand, leaving only about half of his wardrobe, excluding his two pyjama pants.

“You do?” Yachi asks vaguely, seeming more like she’s continuing the conversation than as if she’s actually heard.

“He,” Yamaguchi glances at her and can’t help but blush, burying his face in his hands. “He works the night shift at the radio,” he says, muffled through his hands. Yachi freezes with her hands on a plain green shirt. Hinata frowns in confusion, left out of the loop. Hinata bounces on his toes, whining like a puppy.

“You’re going on a date with Tsukishima Kei?” Yachi asks, barely over a whisper. Yamaguchi nods, trying to stop blushing. He’s not sure why he’s embarrassed, maybe it’s because he’s practically in his underwear and he’s admitting to someone he’s just met that he’s going on a date with her co-worker – her _male_ co-worker – but here he is, blushing into his hands and not watching the look of supressed joy filtering across Yachi’s face.

“So you’re why he’s been distracted!” She crows, laughing. Yamaguchi looks up at her, startled, and she quiets immediately, apologising. “I’m so sorry! I’ve just been worried about him but he’s not very talkative and I’ve been too shy to ask him what’s wrong really. I thought it was because he was dating someone and I didn’t know it and he was worried about their relationship, but really he was just worrying about getting you to go out with him! That’s much happier!

Now let’s get you dressed!”

The sudden change of topic confuses Yamaguchi for a moment too long. Before he knows what’s happening, he’s been stuffed into the plain green shirt in Yachi’s hands and is being pulled out of his dorm by both Hinata and Yachi with barely enough time to mumble about needing socks. This is how it happens that at 10:36 Yamaguchi Tadashi is taken clothes shopping for his date that day at noon by his roommate and a girl he’s just met.

Yachi takes him to several stores and picks through everything, forcing him to try on at least four outfits and at every store. Hinata adds his comments but mostly seems to enjoy the time out and about with the two of them. Despite the hustle and bustle of it, Yamaguchi has to admit it is kind of nice to do things that aren’t college or even personal art once in a while. Not nice enough that he’d want to do it again anytime particularly soon, but nice all the same.

Yachi decides on three outfits.

A black tee-shirt on it with big blocky English on it that she assures him says FIGHT ME, when he’s not entirely sure in his somewhat tenuous grasp of English. He’s not sure why he would want it, but she insists that it goes well with the dark blue jeans she had also picked out that honestly he thinks he has basically the same pair at home but when he suggests it she stares at him as if she’s just been told that the sky is green, so he drops it.

A black sweater that has a white collar and the end of a white shirt sewn to the inside to make it look as if he’s wearing a collared white shirt under without actually wearing one. Yamaguchi thinks this is incredibly pretentious, but it’s surprisingly comfortable so he says nothing. She’d wanted to buy black pleather pants to go with it but he had refused to even put them on so she settled for black, straight leg jeans. Why so much black?

Yamaguchi likes the third outfit the best, though he does like the other sweater. A dark green sweater with a neck that seems to Yamaguchi like a collapsed turtle neck but Yachi calls a ‘cowl neckline’. It’s kind of cute, actually, and it’s a very comfortable sweater. Another pair of black straight leg pants – or are these ones skinny jeans? – that are slightly less comfortable than the others but Hinata looks as if he almost has a heart attack when Yamaguchi walks out of the changing room. And shoes. Yachi had informed him in no uncertain terms that he had no suitable shoes for any kind of date while buying him shoes that look like they’re supposed to be formal Docs. Question mark? They do look nice, though, and they’re fairly comfortable.

Yamaguchi protests valiantly when Yachi and Hinata pay but after a long struggle with himself decide that they were the ones who dragged him out of his dorm without the time to grab his wallet. He knows it’s a lot of money, but Yachi had mostly gone to thrift stores, which he’s grateful for, so he assumes she has something to toss about at least or she wouldn’t have insisted.

This is how it happens that at exactly 11:52 Yamaguchi Tadashi is rushing out of his dorm room in brand new clothes and shoes. He stuffs his wallet in his pocket this time at least. He skids to a halt near the quad, breathing hard from running. When had he gotten this out of shape? Never mind. Yamaguchi shakes his head and sighs when his hair falls into his face. He walks into the quad at a normal speed at 11:54 and looks around. He doesn’t see Tsukishima – Yamaguchi supposes he is a little early – so he sits down on a bench to wait.

When a shadow falls over Yamaguchi, he looks up from his phone – technology is amazing and he greatly appreciates having books at his fingertips – to find Tsukishima looking at him. Tsukishima looks amused and incredibly hot and Yamaguchi suddenly understands why Yachi had taken him shopping; Tsukishima appears to understand fashion. When Yamaguchi had seen him before, he looked well-dressed but plain, nice things perhaps but casual. But _this_ was something else entirely.

Yamaguchi wouldn’t imagine a man like Tsukishima – as much as he knows about him anyway – to be easily swayed by fashion trends but to Yamaguchi, who doesn’t keep up on fashion, Tsukishima looks like he just walked out of fashion magazine. His jacket is a soft grey that looks very good on him and contrasts with his dark blue jeans and his white shirt. There’s a black pattern on that shirt, but Yamaguchi can’t tell what it is because of the jacket. Yamaguchi glances down and notices that his shoes look clean and fashionable as well.

_I’m going to have to buy her dinner. Or kiss her. Or both._ Yamaguchi thinks, tugging vaguely at the sleeve of his sweater. _I would never have the confidence to walk around in raggedy jeans and plain shirts with_ that.

“Afternoon,” Tsukishima says in greeting, offering his hand to Yamaguchi. He stares at it a moment before taking it and getting hauled to his feet a little more forcefully than necessary. When he stumbles into Tsukishima’s chest, two conflicting emotions battle inside of Yamaguchi. One: Tsukishima was very close and smelled very nice. Two: Tsukishima was very close and smelled very nice and _we are in the middle of the quad, oh god._

Yamaguchi pushes away slightly, hands still on Tsukishima’s chest but more space between them. He clears his throat nervously, smoothing his hands over what Yamaguchi thinks would be the lapels of Tsukishima’s jacket – hoodie? Yamaguchi makes a note to learn a little more about clothes.

“Afternoon,” Yamaguchi parrots eventually, trying to figure out what the pattern of Tsukishima’s shirt is. An eight, but what are the words above it? Tsukishima seems perfectly willing to let Yamaguchi just stand there with his hands on Tsukishima’s chest until the world stops spinning. The words appear to be in a Latin language he doesn’t know and Yamaguchi gives up, turning his face up the few inches to look up at Tsukishima.

The act of looking up brings into sharp clarity to Yamaguchi that they are still very, very close and he still has his hands on Tsukishima’s chest. This is the second time! He snatches his hands back, embarrassed but thankfully not blushing.

“Are you ready to go?” Tsukishima asks casually, unperturbed. “I’m hoping it won’t be too crowded now it’s been a week since they opened but just in case, we might want to get there just after the lunch crowd, potentially.”

“Right,” Yamaguchi says, still a little distracted by how amazingly attractive Tsukishima is to him. Tsukishima has already started walking so Yamaguchi does too. He resists the urge to shove his hands in his pockets. “Where are we going?”

“Cat’s Eye Café. It’s close,” Tsukishima adds as if for reason why he’d chosen it, though Yamaguchi hadn’t asked.

“That place right next to the gay bar?” Yamaguchi squeaks, stopping. Tsukishima shrugs and pauses, glancing back at him.

“You coming or not?”

Yamaguchi hurries to catch up to Tsukishima.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up so much longer than I intended, honestly I don't even know what happened?


	2. The College DJ

Tsukishima Kei is distracted. Monday through Saturday nights from eleven to one, he works at the college radio station and generally his work is interspersed with him making snide comments and tossing around random facts about whatever interests him that week. Friday evening, he is distracted. He knows this because he almost forgets to check the submissions and he can’t decide what to say in between songs.

“Apparently, in the US, pennies produced between 1909 and 1982 are worth two cents instead of one,” he says, casually, trying not to sound like he’s annoyed with himself for _that_ being the first thing that comes to mind. Why United States pennies? Now that he thinks about it, Yamaguchi’s freckles had been sort of copper-y coloured.

Tsukishima groans, propping his head in his hands. _This is getting out of hand_ , he scolds himself. Pushing his glasses up onto his forehead, Tsukishima rubs at his eyes, sighing heavily.

“Well, it’s time for me to go to bed. Sleep well, urchins,” Tsukishima grumbles tiredly. “Enjoy the playlist.”

Tsukishima gets back to his dorm at 01:15 and collapses into bed. When Tsukishima had started working the late shift, he’d been grateful for two things. One, that his dorm mate, a year older film student named Ennoshita Chikara, slept like a log. Two, that Ennoshita also kept late hours, and sometimes wasn’t even back until two or three in the morning. Today is one of those days when Ennoshita is not there when Tsukishima returns, so he doesn’t have to worry about disturbing the other man with his tossing and turning.

It’s not like Tsukishima is nervous about tomorrow, or anything. It’s just that he keeps getting distracted. What is going to wear? When should he get up to make sure he has enough time to shower and get dressed? Should he get to the quad early or not? If so, how early? Should he wear contacts or his glasses?

With a disgusted groan, Tsukishima sits up in bed. The dorm is pitch black but for Ennoshita’s alarm clock on the other side of the room. It’s almost two, now, and Tsukishima hasn’t even approached anything like sleep. Sighing, he climbs out of bed and turns on the light.

There’s no point in worrying over things he can control, so he stands in front of his dresser, deciding on what to wear for a good twenty minutes before laying an outfit on his desk. He considers how long it takes him to shower and get dressed and sets his phone alarm accordingly. It might be weird if he’s more than a few minutes early, so he discards the idea. He decides he feels more comfortable wearing his glasses than wearing contacts.

Having gone through most of his immediate concerns, Tsukishima glances at the time again and sighs heavily. Ennoshita still isn’t back and it’s been a little over a half hour; it’s likely he’s spending the night with a friend closer to where he’s been filming recently. Which means that Tsukishima has no immediate reason to not sit on his bed and attempt to convince himself he’s absolutely not panicking.

He falls asleep with the lights on.

At exactly 09:54, Ennoshita walks into his shared dorm room to the sight of his dorm mate asleep in his jeans with the lights on. Unsure how to respond to the sight of his very proper, if snarky, dorm mate sprawled disgracefully across his bed with the lights on, Ennoshita lingers in the doorway uncomfortably. He decides to ignore it.

In the middle of getting dressed, Tsukishima’s phone alarm goes off. Jumping and nearly tripping over his pants, Ennoshita looks back to see Tsukishima groaning and stirring. He manages to finish putting on his pants without falling flat on his face. When he looks back again, Tsukishima is sitting up, rubbing at his eyes.

“Oh, did you just get in?” Tsukishima asks, voice thick with sleep, though his eyes are already clear and attentive, noticing his rumpled shirt and the bags under his eyes critically.

“Yeah,” Ennoshita replies, stripping his shirt off before Tsukishima can judge him any more for it. While Ennoshita is struggling with his shirt, Tsukishima yawns and stretches his arms above his head, glancing around.

Light is filtering through the window despite the closed blinds – a testament to both men’s nocturnal life styles – and Tsukishima blinks at it vaguely before turning to seize his glasses. Shoving the frames onto his nose, Tsukishima fumbles for his phone, squinting at the numbers. It is exactly 10:08 on the Saturday of his date.

Scrambling out of bed, Tsukishima doesn’t notice Ennoshita watching him with a quiet, discerning eye. He stumbles to the bathroom and manages to wake himself up enough to actually be nervous. Yes, he admits it, if only to himself. He, Tsukishima Kei, sass master and jaded college kid, is nervous about going on a date that _he_ suggested.

Tsukishima manages to shower, eat something light, brush his tea, and get dressed before Ennoshita finally says, overly casual, “You look nice today. Up early, for a Saturday, too.”

“And you aren’t?” Tsukishima snaps, choosing not to dignify the comment about his looks with a response. Ennoshita only shrugs, rummaging in the huge backpack that Tsukishima is convinced the older man could live out of.

“None of my business,” Ennoshita concedes, turning his face slightly to the side to hide a tiny grin. Tsukishima makes a noise suspiciously like a harrumph and smooths the front of his jacket.

“I have a date,” Tsukishima admits, grudgingly and near silent. Akiteru had told him he needed to trust people more, so here he was, trusting and confiding in his dorm mate that he, Tsukishima Kei, emotionless shade thrower, had emotions.

“Oh, yeah?” Ennoshita asks, sitting up. He has his laptop and a fancy camera in his lap now and Tsukishima knows he’s settling in and likely won’t get up unless direly necessary for most of the rest of the day. It’s still only 10:47 in the morning, so Tsukishima sits down on his bed. Crossing his legs, he considers Ennoshita for a moment before simply replying, “yeah,” in a flat voice.

Ennoshita plugs in his laptop and configures himself and the cameras – when did he grab a second one and more importantly how did they both fit in that backpack – into what Tsukishima assumes is a comfortable position. After a moment, he seems to process that Tsukishima had reconfirmed his earlier admission, and Ennoshita looks up at him.

“What?” Tsukishima asks grumpily. There was a line between talking to someone like a friend and dumping your issues on that person and Tsukishima was stubbornly determined to never, ever cross that line so if Ennoshita asked anything else, he would get nothing out of Tsukishima.

Ennoshita doesn’t ask, however, just shrugs and turns on his laptop. Apparently, so far as he was concerned, that was the end of the conversation. And yet, he seemed to be waiting. Tsukishima’s plans were often disrupted by the kind of people that were content to sit and patiently wait for things to happen. He is not, he reminds himself, a talkative person. He doesn’t gossip – though he sits and waits to hear it, usually with his headphones on and no music playing so people forget he’s there – and he certainly doesn’t dish his secrets to anyone.

“You’re nervous,” Ennoshita says, half a question but more a statement, breaking into Tsukishima’s irritated reverie. Startled, Tsukishima manages to reply honestly.

“Yes.” It slips from his lips before he realises he’s been manipulated but he can’t take it back now and, ever the realist, he simply lets it hang in the air between them. He doesn’t even know this man very well, but here he is, confessing that he’s a nervous teenage wreck over one date.

Ennoshita nods sagely without so much as a hint of judgement and somehow that’s almost more annoying than if he’d laughed and told Tsukishima to grow up. Tsukishima’s lips twist irritably and he stands. It’s 11:02; there’s nowhere for him to go so he paces.

Exactly three steps from the window to the door. It’s not a small room, necessarily, it’s just that he has very long legs. Their dorm is not exactly homey. Ennoshita does not seem to have the time to spruce up his walls or desk with things like pictures or, you know, maybe some pencils on the desk and Tsukishima for the most part doesn’t care enough. Ennoshita’s sheets are a vibrant lime green and Tsukishima wonders how he can sleep with such a lively colour surrounding him at all times. Tsukishima’s bed is, of course, no better in its own way with plain white sheets and a normal brown and red checkered blanket. Akiteru had told him it looked like a cheap hotel bed but had been stiffly ignored.

“I didn’t know you had friends,” Ennoshita says dryly, in a way that distinctly gives Tsukishima the impression he’s being drawn into friendly teasing. He’s not entirely sure how to handle the situation coming from his quiet dorm mate – though he thinks Ennoshita’s quiet usually comes from over work more than any real character trait – but he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Yes, well, we all have secrets.”

“A secret friend,” Ennoshita says, no hint of mockery in his voice. Tsukishima swallows a smile, suddenly thinking that Yamaguchi, if it actually went that far, may very well indeed be a secret friend, depending on circumstances.

When Tsukishima doesn’t respond, Ennoshita looks up sidelong at him, watching him work through something in his head. To Ennoshita, this moment was very telling in that, whatever the thoughts, they heavy enough to show on Tsukishima’s face in a mixture of what looks like concern, general anxiety, apprehension, and actual fear. And does he know _that_ look.

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Ennoshita says casually, looking back at his laptop. He’d let the film run too long while watching Tsukishima and now he’s lost his place. Frowning, he almost doesn’t catch what Tsukishima says next.

“Thanks,” Tsukishima mumbles, after working through the many potential meanings of the words and landing on the correct one. Revaluating the film major as more perceptive than originally thought, Tsukishima turns to check the time: 11:13. Tsukishima scolds himself for glancing at the clock every few seconds sits back down.

He’d showered much faster than usual, multi-tasking and scrubbing like no tomorrow until he ended up taking half the time he usually did; Tsukishima finds long, hot showers to be a great way to wake up and relax at the same time. He’d also dressed rather quickly.

To kill time, he checks his appearance. The mirror was a present from his mother. She’d made the frame many years ago when she’d been searching for hobbies and he couldn’t bear to get rid of it. He takes a moment to admire the frame – beginner clumsy but still quite nice – before shaking sentimentality from his thoughts and looking himself over.

Tsukishima looks fine, he knows he looks fine, but he does it anyway and smooths out a few rumpled edges that would have fallen back to place once he started walking anyway. If Tsukishima had hair that it was possible to really do anything with, he would have, but he doesn’t so instead he rubs his hands through it and tries to make his hair look more taken care of. Honestly, though, he kept it short so he didn’t _have_ to worry about doing things with it.

“This boy will be the end of me,” Tsukishima whispers, letting his forehead hit the wall beside his mirror. He doesn’t seem to realise he’s said it aloud and Ennoshita isn’t about to tell him.

After a while of standing with his head against the wall, Tsukishima pulls out his phone and sighs heavily: 11:28. Why does time pass so slowly when the only thing he wants is for it to _go_? He paces until Ennoshita kicks him out.

Gathering his wallet and headphones, Tsukishima leaves, closing the door behind him. Sometimes Ennoshita left it open but not when he’s working. So, Tsukishima paces. Up and down the hall, dodging mildly concerned students without seeing them.

Tsukishima begins to make his way to the quad without really noticing what’s happening until he realises that his neck is suddenly colder than he remembered it being. He blinks and looks up to find himself confronted with the late winter sun, smugly reminding him that it is not, in fact, quite spring yet. Pulling his phone from his jacket, Tsukishima checks the time and bites down hard on a sigh: 11:42.

Tsukishima meanders his way vaguely towards the quad. No matter how eager he is, he has an image, damn it, and he’s going to keep it! Even if that means attempting to stay straight faced while wishing that he could force time to shape itself to his will. Well, he supposes that time itself is always being shaped by his will, given that it’s a manmade concept, and he delves into thinking about that to, ironically, pass time instead of the way that Yamaguchi looked when startled. It had to be a crime that such an undignified reaction could be so cute and. Time! Time doesn’t exist. Manmade. Think about time, Kei!

At exactly 11:58, Tsukishima Kei stops thinking about time and starts thinking about the way the sluggish sunlight looks in Yamaguchi Tadashi’s hair, on his skin, casting shadows into his lap while he’s bent slightly over his phone. Tsukishima walks over, scolding himself soundly for letting words like ‘beautiful’ and ‘love’ wander through his mind.

His shadow falls over Yamaguchi. He knows it does but it makes the other man look up and Tsukishima can’t help but be amused. Not only is he reading, but upon looking up he appears momentarily stunned.

Tsukishima is momentarily stunned himself. From the other end of the quad, it had been hard to seen anything but nice jeans and a sweater but the green picked out colours in Yamaguchi’s eyes Tsukishima was certain hadn’t been there the days before and hugged at his musculature scandalously and those black pants made his legs look even longer and Tsukishima supposes that, as an art student, he probably kept up on the trends, if only for aesthetic appreciation, but lord save him the boy was pushing every one of his buttons.

Tsukishima’s train of thought is a long, jumbled mess to the point that, after sorting it out, he feels the need to take a deep breath as if he’d just spoken a whole paragraph in a rush. When Yamaguchi tugs at the hem of a green sweater sleeve and glances down, Tsukishima is reminded that they are not here to stare at each other.

“Afternoon,” he says, just to break the silence. Yamaguchi still looks a little dazed, so Tsukishima offers his hand and hauls the other up when it’s accepted. Yamaguchi is much lighter than he’d anticipated and he ends up pulling the boy right into him. Was he eating enough? Tsukishima is startled but certainly less so than Yamaguchi, who stumbles a little and freezes. Seemingly, he is trying to decide whether or not to stay half pressed against Tsukishima, because he can feel Yamaguchi’s heartbeat skyrocket and the tensing and untensing of his arm muscles in preparation to push away.

After what seems like a wonderful eternity, Yamaguchi pushes away slightly, apparently having decided on a middle ground. He is still quite close and is smoothing his hands along the top edge of Tsukishima’s jacket, but it’s a mildly more appropriate distance for in public.

“Afternoon,” Yamaguchi replies finally, apparently distracted by Tsukishima’s shirt. Unconsciously, Yamaguchi’s hands twitch as if to pull open the jacket so he can actually see what’s on the shirt. Tsukishima would have no qualms with that, but Yamaguchi is apparently too well-mannered to do such a thing without asking. Well, his hands are warm and he smells like paint and shampoo in a way that is strangely appealing, so Tsukishima simply lets him stare.

With a tiny sigh, Yamaguchi looks up at Tsukishima and seems to realise that, while they’re no longer chest to chest, his nose is still only inches from Tsukishima’s. Yamaguchi pulls his hands away and takes a step back, clearly embarrassed. Tsukishima bites the inside of cheek to stop from smiling. It has to be a crime how cute this man is. It’s not possible for someone to be handsome one moment and adorable the next.

“Are you ready to go?” Tsukishima asks, managing to not sound like he almost swallowed his tongue. “I’m hoping it won’t be too crowded now it’s been a week since they opened but just in case, we might want to get there just after the lunch crowd, potentially.”

“Right,” Yamaguchi says, still seeming a bit distracted. Tsukishima is perfectly willing to let him be distracted, so long as he’s distracted in Tsukishima’s general area. That thought nearly turns Tsukishima red, so he turns and walks away. Yamaguchi follows and Tsukishima is intensely grateful. “Where are we going?”

“Cat’s Eye Café.” Tsukishima realises that Yamaguchi might not know where or what the café is, he doesn’t seem like the type that keeps up on things happening outside the art world and adds, “it’s close.”

“That place right next to the gay bar?” Yamaguchi squeaks, stopping in his tracks. Apparently he did know where it was, at least. It’s just a café, even if Tsukishima has no doubt that it’ll turn into the unofficial ‘gay café’, both by choice and by virtue of being so close to the bar. Tsukishima shrugs off both Yamaguchi’s surprise and his own thoughts. Pausing mid-step, he glances back at Yamaguchi, trying to keep the sudden nerves from his voice.

“You coming or not?”

Yamaguchi hurries to catch up to Tsukishima.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, when I first made this the text for this chapter was just 'tsukishima kei will be the end of me', so, there's that.
> 
> Anyway, I've been having hardcore writers block on the last piece so wait at least a couple weeks before pestering me to upload 'cause I have no clue where to go on it.


	3. issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry!!

hey guys, sorry i haven't been posting! i have the first chapter of the next part but my laptop broke and i have no way to continue writing it bc writing on my phone makes my hands hurt and my doctor scolded me last tone i came in bc he just know i had aggravated my carpal tunnel.

I'm working on saving up for a new laptop but for now, do you guys want the unedited first chapter and wait indefinitely for the edited version and the second chapter or would y'all prefer to just wait?

thanks for being understanding!

**Author's Note:**

> Save me.  
> My friend made fan art! Sort of.  
> http://yamaguchis-protection-squad.tumblr.com/post/141069463333/isoleberinger-yamaguchis-protection-squad-i


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